


The King; The Commanded

by Jon



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Light Bondage, M/M, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-18
Updated: 2013-02-18
Packaged: 2017-11-29 18:29:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/690106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jon/pseuds/Jon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes the king likes to be spanked. No reason- he just likes it. Who better to oblige him than Dwalin?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The King; The Commanded

Thorin clenched down his jaw as the 'crack' of Dwalin's palm hit his backside again- and his lips, this time, refused to move.

He knew he'd done wrong for hesitating as soon as silence fell behind him, and he felt the coming slap, that was just about to hit him again, hovering just above his cheeks.

The bedsheets were hot where he'd been pawing at them, and they had been pulled off from where they'd been tucked in at the end of the bed by each shudder and jerk- almost ripped clean from the bed at one point.

The pillow beneath the king was damp: sodden with sweat from his chest where he'd been clutching it and burying his face within it. He hadn't yet shed tears, but he didn't think it would be too long until he did. With each blow that had rained on his arse for the past five minutes, he could feel a whimper rise and die in his throat- some sort of plea, or some sort of curse.

'Thorin.'

Dwalin- the Master in his bedroom, and the master of his army- sounded indifferent from how he usually was during sex-play. No emotion yet perforated through his austere and commanding mask (until Thorin needed it); he was almost another person from how he usually was with the king in waking hours.

It was the only way they could do this, however. Their invisible visages on, and the obligations of a society that expected too much from them fixed firmly behind them. Nobody in his court would watch him break when the blows got harder, not even Dwalin- for he wasn't Dwalin. In the bedroom he was simply Master. The dwarf who Thorin could cry and shudder in front of, and one who he could let use him without anxiety.

 

'Thorin. What do you say?'

 

Thorin swallowed hard and spread his legs- for some reason- wider. His genitals were hot and full, almost uncomfortable as he felt the covering of sweat on them, clinging to his scrotum and in between the creases of his thighs. His arse was another matter entirely. That had stung from the moment he'd walked, shame-faced and with his eyes cast downwards in modesty, into Dwalin's chamber. It had stung from the mere memory of last time it had recieved the hand, and now that it had been beaten in various degrees of strength until Thorin lay with legs crooked on the bed, it was almost to the point where he could take no more.

 

But he could always take more.

 

'Twenty-five, Master,' Thorin said. He didn't know how he still knew the count, but it was wrenched from his lips, and m=by the approving grunt behind him, he knew it was correct.

'Good boy.'

He almost sobbed as he felt the dwarf move closer behind him- and wished he could turn his head a little to see. He had only glimpsed flesh underneath an open shirt when he had walked in; a little bit of dark wiry hair and then nothing as he had been roughly pushed face down to the bed.

'You won't need your hands tonight. Not after last time,' his Master had said.

He had struggled, but in the end his arms had been pulled out from underneath him, bound with a strip of cloth and secured over and over by one of Dwalin's heavy belts. He had disobeyed last time when Master had trusted him enough to lie with his hands unbound: he had tried to covertly slip one between his legs as his Master had fucked him after their play got too hot and heavy for him to take. Thorin felt a new surge of shame as Dwalin stepped back from him to admire his handiwork, which had left Thorin's arms hanging loosely and helplessly in front of him.

Thorin test-pulled on the bonds ( _Valar, they were tight enough_ ) and Dwalin had smirked as he found that Thorin's cock was already stiff inside his trousers, but he had said nothing else as he hooked his fingers inside the waistband and pulled them right off, forcing the king around with the other hand, back down onto the pillow he knew so, so well.

'Tonight I want you to count the slaps I give you. Can you do that for me?'

Thorin had already been shaking by then from suppressed need and the nerves he always got when he entered the room. He cleared his throat pitifully, and though his eyes still remained fixed on the bedsheets, he could tell his Master was staring at him intensely.

'A-aye,' he barely murmured.

'Alright.'

No other warning was given, when the first slap struck.

 

It had been all Thorin could do to keep track- smack after smack after smack. Growing and fading in intensity, making his heart jump and his teeth mash down on his lower lip until it was hot and raw, and the sweat trickled from his tied-back hair down his neck.

Tonight, Thorin knew he was being punished harder than usual. For his own good. _It was for his own good._ Whether it was because his Master sensed he needed this after the week he'd had, or as punishment for his greediness and lack of self control the last time they fucked, he knew not.

But his Master knew that when the pain teased him, when he stroked along his tender backside with calloused fingers that caught his skin, he pushed back for more. Dwalin would tut at this, drawing his gentle fingers away- the smacks coming again, accompanied by a throaty laugh. And through this, Thorin counted; the only constant thing he could do in the white haze of pain and the overarching tingle of bliss.

Occasionally, Dwalin would mutter 'good boy', and 'such a clever boy' after a particularly hard one- the kind which sent Thorin's head snapping back and a growling mewl echoing around his mouth.

The twenty-sixth slap was one of these, one which caught Thorin off guard after his lull.

This one drew a cry from him, and Thorin cursed as he felt tears sliding down his face freely, but he tried to stop his hips from rearing backwards to receive another. For as long as Thorin would receive, Dwalin would take- and he would take until Thorin was red all over.

He dropped his head down and pushed up and out, his hands uncomfortable underneath his chest, and he tried to hide his tears and breathy sobs within the plush material covering his face.

'Is that number twenty-six?' Dwalin growled. Thorin could almost feel his hungry gaze burning into his cheeks now, savouring the redness he'd caused.

'Yes,' Thorin whispered, but he knew his Master couldn't hear him. Something wet was dripping down his left thigh. He moved a little, and his cock sprang up to press into his stomach, leaving a trail of moisture where it stood. He drew in a breath as he realised this was what had soiled his thigh, and tried to wipe some of it off before the knowledge that he was leaking pre-come got far too distracting for him to bear.

'Mahal above- but those are some pretty welts on your arse... if only you could see them now,' Dwalin breathed, his voice almost reverent. His large hand grabbed a cheek and pulled, Thorin's whole body coming with it.

'I want you to get to the mirror and see what I do to you when you're disciplined. Might make you a bit more appreciative of my job,' he said, but Thorin could hardly stand as he was coaxed off the bed and onto the cold floor. Stars floated in front of his eyes, and his knees automatically gave way; it was only Dwalin's strong arm that kept him moving, jerkingly, towards the mirror.

Let alone walk, he could hardly stand without bending at the waist- his arse was that painful. He knew the pain would give, but this time he suspected he would need at least a week of silent recovery.

Thorin felt a finger push his chin up, and he was bent forwards by the arm tipping him up and grabbing him across his shoulders. The first thing he saw in the gilded mirror saw was his cock, swollen and flushed deeply. The sight of it made him blush, and he tried to hide it by turning away and crossing his legs. Dwalin noticed:

'Spread your legs, boy,' he barked.

Thorin silently spread, and moaned as his balls were fully exposed.

'Now look at this-'

Thorin was spun around; the arm behind him comforting in its strength, but it was unmistakably commandeering, and Thorin felt like a puppet as he was guided to turn on the spot. He had no choice as his bare bottom was presented to the mirror and the other hand twisted his face around, his eyes dropping down his body again.

At the sight of himself and the sight of the look on his Master's face, the only thing Thorin could do was whimper, and he fought the urge to speak out of turn with all his control.

Dwalin was flushed and breathing hard now, and though Thorin still obeyed the hand at his face guiding his gaze, he could feel an equally hard penis pressing against his right thigh, still encased in its undergarments and trousers.

His arse was reddened, and Thorin could clearly make out the firm shape of Dwalin's hand prints in relief on his skin, edged in white. Red stripes crossed the back of his thighs, where goose pimples had raised. The hands gripping his arms were shaking a little; Dwalin's dark eyes drunk in the look on his face (and the look of his arse), his tongue running over his lips. At the sight of this, Thorin couldn't help but bend over further to try and get his aching hard on pressed into Dwalin's- but the stinging at his arse and pain in his twisted neck made it impossible for him to keep still on his feet. Dwalin leered, pushing his wet lips close to Thorin's ear and drawing a high pitched noise from him.

'Aye... red and willing for me- that's how I like your flesh-'

His Master tugged him back to the bed as if Thorin were no more than a child's toy on a string, and he ignored Thorin when he stumbled as his toes hit the rug.

Thorin couldn't ignore his own cock now, and the feeling of the blankets beneath it as he was thrown roughly to the bed again was Mahal-sent. The wind was knocked out of him as his balled and bound fists hit into his stomach with the impact, but he could almost get the tip of his thumb- ever so nearly- brushing the head- 

'STOP.'

Thorin had no voice to cry out as Dwalin grabbed a fistful of his hair and pulled him back up to his face- coupling this with another raw slap on his arse, which caught Thorin's thigh as well and made him bite his tongue as he jerked.

'I saw that, boy- we're not going to have a repeat of last time, are we?'

Thorin's hand limply fell away from his cock, but he didn't have to start pleading for some relief this time; Dwalin was kneeling on the bed now, and Thorin felt the trousers behind hastily shoved down his thighs with the other hand.

'This ain't going to be gentle, lad. Fuck me, you've no idea what's in store,' he muttered, low and rough into Thorin's ear.

Thorin wanted to say how much he needed to be taken like this- the image of his burning red arse fixed in his mind, and he was sure that the same image was all Dwalin could take in at the moment. However much he tried to maintain an air of passivity, somewhere toward the end of their sessions Dwalin would get undeniably hard- usually after the first hour of their rough play, after Thorin had had enough time to show his spread arse and hole to the other dwarf. Sometimes the erection would pop the ties on Dwalin's breeches, especially if Thorin was over his lap and having a dildo roughly put inside him, or Dwalin was eating his hole- and sometimes with a long spanking it was slower to burn.

 

And when Dwalin burned, the explosion at the end was worth it.

 

He felt the dip in the bed and a muscled shoulder support his neck as it was pulled back.

'On... from behind?' Thorin barely registered what he was saying- he knew what words wanted to get out of his mouth: he was asking if his Master would be so cruel as to pound into his already battered arse.

'Did I give you permission to speak to me, boy?'

Thorin's mouth snapped shut- and so did his eyes, which had creaked open to stare resolutely at the ceiling as Dwalin slapped his prick against his cheeks, and dragged it slowly up the cleft.

Thorin's eyes rolled back in his head, a gagging sound bubbling in his throat, and he felt as though he could reach his peak just from his cheeks and hole being touched like that, with the feeling of Dwalin's pre come smearing on his flesh.

His Master was muttering filthy words to him, one hand tugging on his nipple and the hand that was in his hair releasing its hold and instead clamping down over Thorin's mouth to gag him. His bound wrists twitched upwards, but after a second Thorin relaxed back into Dwalin's arms, and the slump brought the heavy cock nudging between his cheeks. His eyes prickled with the sting of it; he felt every movement of Dwalin's rutting hips acutely, every slip of the flesh against his entrance.

'-The fuck is my oil?' Dwalin murmured, but then Thorin heard the unstoppering of the bottle, and his body tautened.

 

A single finger breached him, and he nearly bit down on the flesh of Dwalin's thumb as it gripped onto the side of his mouth. Dwalin hissed in his ear, but he knew he wouldn't stop as the finger twisted and pumped in quickly, not there to tease or pleasure him- only to do the job of greasing him so he could at least hobble tomorrow.

Another finger unexpectedly joined after a minute, and this time- Mahal, this time- Thorin felt the stretch, which seemed to split him right up to his shoulder blades, or so it felt like. His breathing was laboured through his nose, and he sucked what air he could from between Dwalin's fingers.

If this was the look of things with just two fingers, he didn't want to think about that huge cock positioned just inches away from him. As if reading Thorin's mind, Dwalin pushed his slick penis up against the slightly loosened entrance, and a shudder ran through the other dwarf's body.

Thorin moaned a 'yes' through the hand- and Dwalin needed no other encouragement to mount him, only a huffed 'y' ready?'- before Thorin screamed.

 

Dwalin swore and pushed his head back further into his shoulder. His cock was barely past the head, and even now Thorin was clenched around him like a vice.

The breach felt like nothing he'd had in all the times they'd fucked after beating. It was always gentle, and Thorin always had had a chance to calm down and recuperate first. This time, his Master couldn't hold back from him, and he sank forwards on his knees as Thorin drew each quarter-inch down into him.

The impalement was slow and long- Dwalin shifting behind Thorin as he was taken in. Thorin willed himself to overcome the burn in his hole and cheeks, to ignore the press of Dwalin's hips on the underside of his thighs and arse- and he longed to bite down on the pillow to aid him.

'M-m,' he tried, but his throat had swollen from his internalised sobs.

'Aye, wench?' Dwalin whispered, and Thorin noted his voice was deeper and huskier than it usually was, even in deep arousal.

Thorin couldn't quite formulate a sentence, and strained downwards away from Dwalin's tight embrace. Getting the idea, Dwalin pushed him down again and instead took both of Thorin's hips in his hands, settling himself in all of the way with a long sigh.

This position brought some sweet relief to his arse, and Thorin breathed in the comforting scent of the pillow, placing his sore hands on it.

''M gonna go now- not gonna stop. You alright, boy?' the dwarf above him asked. Thorin nodded quickly, unable to brace himself on anything but his face, flat down in the pillow and his forearms weakly above his head.

Dwalin held him in a crushing grip around his hipbones as he backed out, and this was even worse than his entry. His veins felt too large, his prick too textured and Thorin felt every bump, and every brush of Dwalin's skin against him made him squirm. He groaned into the pillow, trying to spread his legs wider to see if that would ease some of the pain, but this only earned him a pinch on his bottom which spread fire through him... which radiated up to his loins as well.

Dwalin pushed in again, trying to be slow, but knowing Thorin would stop him if it was too much for him to take. He flicked his hips when they settled back against Thorin's red arse, and through his entry into him he had made sure to get a very good look at his bruised backside, which made his cock rear up even further inside his lover.

 

Feeling just how stiff Dwalin was getting inside him was one of Thorin's favourite things. He rocked his hips back onto the cock, and even though his arse protested, sending another spike of pain across his rump, he couldn't help meeting every smack of his Master's hips against his behind with fervour. He could feel the bruises being pounded; Dwalin wasn't being gentle now, and a predatory growl escaped his lips each time he slid back in, mixed with his moans of relief as he worked himself towards orgasm. 

Thorin couldn't escape the pain as his climax built, but the feeling of his beaten backside being dealt with made him rock his penis against the sheets for extra friction.

Dwalin grabbed Thorin's cheeks again and wrenched them further apart, and Thorin's panting spiked with pain, his lips mouthing something to him, but he knew not if it was stop or carry on. His arse was the only thing he could focus on right now- the stiff pole inside him and the exquisite pain blossoming over his skin and seeping into his very core. The dark world behind Thorin's eyes spun- lust, pain, lust, pain- in a maddening carousel, and he realised that now he was sobbing, and the tears were rolling down his cheeks faster as his Master's cock drove deep into him, as Dwalin bent over his back, and the words reached Thorin's ear:

'Good boy. Such a good boy, nearly there now- god you'll not walk-'

Dwalin's voice broke off with a grunt, and he pulled out quickly. Thorin turned his face to the side in question, but he had no strength to wonder at this, and his back and legs had turned to jelly.

But oh-

He could feel Dwalin's increasing movements behind him, the slap of his hand and slickness clearly audible as he got himself off.

Then he felt the press of the underside of Dwalin's cock to his cleft, and with a moan, buried his face back into the pillows, trying to push his balls up towards the dwarf- so that he might feel it drip...

There it was at last; with an almost pained moan, Dwalin's hand stilled above him, and Thorin felt his cock swell and stiffen, then the head pulsing as come spurted from it, down his crack and sliding down the back of his ballsack.

 

Thorin wept openly now, raising his head with one last effort and turning around to catch Dwalin's eye. 

'Mahal- you've got to...' he whispered. He could feel his cock jutting hard into the mattress, and the rush of his need inside his balls and throughout his groin made him even forget the burning at his rear.  
  
Dwalin wasn't finished coming yet, and he gazed at Thorin with half-lidded eyes as he loosely held his slick cock, rubbing the head across the mess he'd made. His breath, quietening and slowing as the spurts from his cock ebbed, ghosted over his lips and stirred the hair of his moustache and beard.  
  
'Aye lad- let me have a second,' he said. Thorin waited patiently, but his wrists were getting cold and sore now, and he moved them awkwardly out from underneath him to Dwalin to be untied.  
  
Dwalin leant forwards and kissed him slowly, his slippery fingers pulling the knots apart, and when the warm and feeling flooded back into his hands, Thorin moaned his thanks.  
  
His moan turned into a growl as Dwalin pushed him again on the bed, but he flipped him over and shoved his legs roughly apart, Thorin's feet getting caught in the tangle. He looked wildly up at him, but Dwalin shook his head, some mirth creeping into his eyes; they wouldn't fuck again tonight.  
  
'Can you lie on the bed?' Dwalin asked him.

Thorin slowly seated himself on the mattress, and winced. It would have to do though, because Dwalin's head was between his legs in an instant. Thorin arched his back and a sob left his mouth as his tender buttocks were pressed into the covers, but all sense quickly left him as he felt Dwalin's mouth come down, already well wet, to draw a slow lick over his cock.  
  
  
The orgasm was the hardest Thorin had had in a long while; his freed hands had tried to push Dwalin's head down onto his knob, trying to desperately make him swallow it, which had almost made his Master pull back and deny him any further stimulation for his impudence.  
  
In a few short moments, he had spilled heavily in Dwalin's hand and across his arm and stomach, his vision faltering as the blood rushed to his face- and his ears rang with the force of it.  
  
Now he gingerly sat on the side of the bathtub Dwalin had in his private quarters. His lover had run the hot water and more was boiling in the large kettle, and the smell of herbs soothed his head. Getting up, he made his way to the small mirror, and levered himself up to get a better look at his back. There was no blood this time- but Thorin had almost gasped as he saw the large purple bruises already forming, and the redness which was refusing to fade.  
'Y' going to be colourful tomorrow,' Dwalin jested, once he had examined Thorin for any lasting damage, and finding none.  
  
Thorin stretched the kinks out of his arms and back, the role play unofficially ending as Dwalin's touches softened, and he tipped his head up for a kiss. He brought Thorin to rest back against his chest and nestled his forehead into his shoulder, the black hair spilling down his nose.

 

Through the steam fog, they looked at themselves in the mirror like this for a while, Dwalin propping his chin up on Thorin's shoulder. The general and the master; the king and the commanded.

No one would know.


End file.
